


You'll Regret This

by Sangsue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangsue/pseuds/Sangsue
Summary: short drabble i wrote tonight.





	You'll Regret This

**Author's Note:**

> So i have a broader story in mind, but i havent written anything in a while so i thought i'd just put this up now.

“You’ll regret this tomorrow.”  
He scoffs at that, lips forming a smirk around the unlit end of a cigarette from a pack he’d found in her kitchen. He comes back with a cup of water from the tap and shakes the carton at her, she shakes her head and frowns at him. They belong to her roommate, she can’t stand the smell and they fight about it constantly, but he opens a window and lights one anyway. She doesn’t protest, simply stays propped up on the pillows. When a stray gust of wind passes by her she moves beneath the blankets, Hux watches then goes back to staring out the window. And that is when she says it.  
“You’ll regret this tomorrow.”  
There’s no acid or irony in her voice. Her voice is flat. She isn’t even looking at him. And the humor that he’d found in her words quickly fades when he realizes that she is not joking. A part of him is offended. The other is uneasy, because he doesn’t understand what she means.  
“I doubt that.” The worse sound more than a little abrasive, a mixture of annoyance and dry throat. And he does doubt it, because he’s done nothing worth regretting. One night stands are common enough, nothing to be ashamed of. This isn’t his first, he doubts it will be his last. He’d taken the necessary precautions, worn a condom to protect himself from disease and her from the risk of pregnancy.  
“I know. But you will.” Blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders she rolls away from him, shielding her face from his view. It makes him want to roll her over and force her to look at him. Instead, he flicks the cigarette out the window and closes it. He’d thought to climb back into bed with her, enjoy a repeat performance before slipping out the door, but now it seemed unlikely. The blanket draped over her was like armor, the mattress a fortress. He hesitates.  
“I’m not saying it to hurt your feelings. It’s just how it is.”  
Another scoff. This time a little forced. “Yeah. Right.” She’s crazy, she must be, because only someone crazy would make something out of nothing, which is all this was. Nothing. He starts looking for his clothes, because it’s probably best to leave here immediately.  
She rolls over and looks up at him. He continues dressing, avoiding her eyes.  
“You can stay the night if you want,” and Hux nearly freezes then because it sounds like pity.  
“I have things to do tomorrow.”  
“So do I. That’s why I said tonight.”  
He turns away from her, pushing buttons into holes, but he can still hear her. The rustle of fabric as she moves the blanket catches his ear, but he needs to leave, so he doesn’t look back. The creak of the mattress as she moves closer to him makes him stiffen.  
She places a hand on his shoulder and he turns, turns to strike her but is instead forcing himself into her arms. They land back on the bed together, she still naked and him half dressed. He presses his face against her bare breast and lays there, breathing heavily. Her hands stroke through his hair, rub over the expanse of his back. They don’t fuck again, but he doses in and out of consciousness, lulled to sleep by the sound of her breathing and the noises that scatter in the outside.  
The next morning he wakes up and she is gone. And he finishes dressing and laughs off the stupid comments she’d made the night before. He goes back to his apartment, washes her scent from his skin, and prepares for work that day. And he doesn’t think about her every day, or every night, and for the most part she is just a memory of that one night, that one time, that he found a girl storming out of a 24 hour gas station at two in the morning and offered her a ride home, only to be pulled up six flights of stairs and into her bed.  
He doesn’t regret her kiss, or the feeling of her hands on him. He doesn’t regret smoking her roommate’s cigarettes or leaving his jacket in her room.  
He does, every once in a while, regret leaving her.


End file.
